


Let's Stop the World

by Sholio



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Multi, Pre-Relationship, Very Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-15 06:59:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13025709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sholio/pseuds/Sholio
Summary: It was supposed to just be a study session. Steve's failing algebra. Jonathan's acing it. And Jonathan could use a little extra money from after-school tutoring. But somehow it turned into more.(Or: AU in which Steve and Jonathan become friends before the start of season 1, and everything is different.)





	Let's Stop the World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hyperical](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyperical/gifts).



> For an absolutely brilliant prompt, pasted at the end. I hope you enjoy this, [hyperical](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hyperical)!

The first words out of Jonathan Byers' mouth are, "I know you don't want to be here. Me neither."

It's true, but the way Jonathan says it -- hunched up and prickly, like he expects Steve to come over and steal his lunch money or whatever -- brings out something defensive in Steve. "So why are you here, then?" Steve asks, bookbag slung over his shoulder, hip leaned against the doorframe, all lazy nonchalance shading into annoyance. It's not like _he_ wants to spend his Saturdays being tutored in algebra, either.

"I need the money."

And something about _that_ , the honesty maybe, makes Steve laugh. Jonathan's wary look deepens into a scowl, like he thinks he's being laughed at, like he can't see Steve's laughing at himself almost as much.

"Yeah, well, I need the grades. Now that we've got that out of the way ..." Steve slaps his bookbag down on the table with a smack that makes gimlet-eyed Ms. (NOT MISS) Cooper give him a death glare from over by the Economics shelf. "... let's get this over with."

Jonathan keeps looking at him, and then, slowly, sits back down with the table between them.

He's spending his Saturday in the library with the school freak, Steve thinks, as he gets out his books. Tommy and Carol better never find out about this.

 

*

 

So, here's the thing: Steve's failing algebra. He needs those math credits to graduate. Preferably he needs at least a B if he's going to pull a high enough cumulative GPA to have a good shot at getting athletic scholarships next year.

Steve's having a hard time figuring out why it matters. It's still early in the first semester of his junior year, for cryin' out loud. He's not even going to worry about college 'til next year. But his dad's giving him shit, and Coach is giving him shit, and both of them have made it pretty clear that he's off the team if he doesn't pull up his grades a bit. And that'd really suck a lot (for one thing, "I'm starting center for the Hawkins basketball team" gets him a whole lot farther with girls than "I shoot some hoops in my spare time") so yeah, _fine_ , he lets Mr. Fogerty set him up with a tutor. Doesn't really matter all that much.

He didn't even realize Jonathan Byers was _in_ that class 'til walking into the library that first day and having the hunched, black-clad figure stand up and look at him.

This might be the first time they've ever actually talked to each other. Steve knows who Jonathan is, of course. Everyone knows everyone in Hawkins. Jonathan's a year behind him and, like Steve, has lived in Hawkins all his life, which means they've been in the same school since pretty much forever, but usually not in the same class.

That first session, Jonathan spends the first hour mumbling mathy technobabble into his collar when Steve asks him questions, and Steve spends it staring at equations that don't magically make any more sense than they did on Friday, and finally Steve says in exasperation, "Do you _actually_ know how any of this works, or did you just tell Fogey that to pick up some cash from my old man?"

Jonathan takes a breath and spreads his hands on the book open in front of him -- long hands, long fingers. Artist hands. "I _do_ know how it works."

"Right, so tell me."

"I'm trying. You're not listening."

"It's not that I'm not listening, it's that nothing you're saying makes any sense!"

Ms. Cooper, passing by with a bookcart, hisses "Shhhhhh!", which is definitely louder than _Steve_ was being. He flips her off behind her back, which makes some freshman girls at the next table glare at him too.

This is going great.

Steve takes a deep breath, because Jonathan has hunched up to the point where he looks like he wants to disappear into his own shirt, and Steve really does need him if he's not going to fail this class. Damn it. "Look," he says, "if I knew what to ask, I wouldn't have flunked three straight quizzes and the first test, okay? Just, uh ... pretend I'm your kid brother or something --" The look of sheer disbelief that greets _this_ statement makes him grin, and slowly, reluctantly, Jonathan smiles back, just a tiny hint of a smile, but the first one Steve's seen out of him (today, or, possibly, ever). "And explain it to me slow, from the beginning," he finishes.

Jonathan hesitates and then flips back to the beginning of the book. "Okay," he says. "But you have to promise me something."

"Oh ... kay."

"For the next --" Jonathan glances at the clock on the wall. "... two hours, I'm the teacher, all right? You can ask questions or argue with me or whatever, just don't ... you know. Use this. Later."

"Use this," Steve says, utterly baffled. "Okay, what's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"In school," Jonathan says. "To mess with me." _Like you do,_ his defensive body language implies. _Like all of you do._

And that gets Steve's back up a little, because hey, _he's_ never messed with Jonathan, at least that he can remember. Not like some of the others do. _He's_ not the one who sticks a foot out to trip him in the hall or spray-paints rude things on his locker.

They've just never had anything to say to each other. That's all.

But the way Jonathan's looking at him is ... There's a vulnerability to it, a defensive layer of outward prickles over something fragile underneath. And when Steve looks back on it later, he thinks maybe what mattered is that his urge to defend himself in that moment was undermined by ... something, he's not even sure what, maybe a little bit of guilt, maybe sympathy, maybe just that he doesn't want to fail this damn class.

"Trust me," Steve says, and he takes off his jacket and slings it over the back of the chair. "Nothing that happens in this room leaves this room. What happens in the library, stays in the library. Learn me some algebra, Teach."

 

*

 

Steve can't figure out when or how or why those Saturdays start to be fun, but somehow, they actually are.

The thing about Jonathan is that he's relaxing to be around, in a way that Tommy H and Carol and the rest of them aren't. When Steve is with his friends, he always has to be "on." He's got to be sparkling and funny, he's got to make fun of the right people and laugh at the right jokes, or know exactly when to sneer at something stupid Tommy said, to get the girls to laugh along with him. He knows how to play the game, he's always been good at it, and it's sure a damn sight better to be a player than to get fleeced by the players of the world (quoting the old man here).

He's even "on" at home, though he's not sure what role he's playing, exactly; "son", maybe. He loves his parents, they're okay as parents go, but parents are ... parents. You can't _ever_ let your guard down around parents.

But there's no King Steve in the library. He and Jonathan are both here for a reason, and that reason isn't going to go away if he's not funny and witty and charming. All he has to do is show up and pay attention to algebra for three hours. He doesn't have to _sparkle._

He didn't realize how much of a relief it would be to just kind of hang out with someone and not worry about whether or not they like him. 

And Jonathan's actually fun to hang out with, which is something Steve never would have suspected. That quiet, hangdog exterior is masking not just a sharp brain (Jonathan's a nerd; Steve knew that already) but also a quick, sly sense of humor and a lot of opinions. A _lot_ of opinions. Steve thought Jonathan never had opinions on anything. Come to find out, he's got opinions on _everything_ \-- aside from the handful of things that Steve actually has opinions on (sports, mostly, which Jonathan inexplicably couldn't care less about). Steve doesn't really care about politics or art or the environment or music (beyond knowing what he likes, most of which Jonathan seems to consider "mainstream" or just "hopeless"), but it's actually really fun to listen to Jonathan talk about something like that, illustrating his points with swooping gestures of his long, graceful hands.

Steve's not only pulling better grades in algebra, but he looks forward to those Saturdays, more than he wants to admit. He likes teasing out Jonathan's shy laugh. He likes ... he likes watching the way Jonathan moves, the endearing combination of grace and storklike teenage awkwardness.

There are times when some deep, wary part of his mind wonders if he doesn't like Jonathan Byers a little more than he ought to.

But _that's_ ridiculous; Nancy's entered the picture now, and his weeks are full of Nancy (catching kisses between classes, trying to entice her away from the parent-guarded barricades of her little middle-class suburban castle) and his weekends are full of Jonathan, and even if his life is necessarily chopped up into parts (the Tommy and Carol parts, the Nancy parts, the Jonathan parts, the home-with-the-parents parts), Steve thinks maybe he's happier right now than he's ever been.

 

*

 

And then Will Byers goes missing.

By the next day, everyone knows about it -- there's no way rumors _aren't_ going to sweep a town the size of Hawkins. Especially when Joyce Byers isn't exactly being subtle about it. ( _Crazy,_ the rumors say. _Whole family's crazy._ )

Steve doesn't see Jonathan all day on Monday, but that makes sense; no better excuse to skip, right? After class, he finds himself standing with his hand on one of the pay phones by the parking lot. Thinking about calling. But what's he gonna say? "Sorry your brother's missing?" Yeah, thanks a heap, bro. And anyway, he's not sure Jonathan would even _want_ to hear from him. He's not sure if they're friends; like Steve said all those weeks ago, what happens in the library stays in the library. Whatever it is that they _are_ in the library, it doesn't extend outside that study room. He and Jonathan don't even say hi to each other in algebra class, though they might share a passing nod every now and then. They sure don't talk to each other in the halls, or (god forbid) sit together in the cafeteria.

Besides, what if he gets Crazy Mrs. Byers instead, and has to talk to her?

So he goes and he meets Lovely Nancy by the lamplight in her room, and it's fun and he's just a dumb teenager for awhile, a teenager who just might be falling in love with this girl, and he doesn't think about Jonathan or missing baby brothers at all.

Until late at night, back at home. He thinks about calling. Doesn't.

Kids run away from home all the time, right? Will's probably back already.

 

*

 

But he knows Will isn't back as soon as he sees Jonathan the next morning in the hallway, while Steve and the usual gang are teasing Nancy and that redhead friend of hers, trying to entice them over to the party tonight. And then there's Jonathan, and Steve's fun folds in on itself like a crushed paper cup. Because Jonathan absolutely radiates misery. Steve can feel it even from here.

"I don't think he speaks," Carol says, and guilt's like a live thing writhing inside Steve, flaring into anger and a hard shove, harder than he means to, when Tommy makes a crack about Jonathan killing his brother.

He wants to say something. The desire to call Jonathan that he felt last night comes surging back, except Jonathan's _right there,_ and Steve's a spineless coward, he's a shitty friend, because he _can't_ , he just can't do it, not in front of Tommy and Carol and all of them. They'll never let him hear the end of it.

And then Nancy's just ... walking across that endless space between them and Jonathan, like it's _nothing_ , like the ironclad rules of the high school social hierarchy don't even exist. Like she doesn't care what people thinks.

Steve follows her.

In some ways he thinks that walking down the hall, in full view of Tommy and Carol and the rest of them, in full view of every single student who walks by, to talk to _Jonathan Byers_ is, just maybe, the bravest thing he's ever done. (He'll revisit that thought in a major way, later. Later that same day, even.) At the same time, he also feels kind of stupid because he _knows_ how that sounds, and he also knows, damn it, that he might not even have been able to make himself do it if Nancy hadn't gone first. There's safety in numbers. He can always claim he was just backing up his girlfriend. Protecting the silly girl from the freak.

Shame twists in his stomach, hot and thick.

But then, there they are, there Jonathan is, and he looks at them in that startled, head-ducking, deer-in-headlights way he does -- Steve almost forgot what it used to be like, because Jonathan's _stopped_ doing that in the library. And Jonathan's eyes are red like he's been crying, and that makes Steve feel a little sick, too.

He should have called. He really is a shitty friend.

"Hey," Nancy says, and it occurs to Steve that she's probably never talked to Jonathan before, any more than he had before a few weeks ago. Jonathan's eyes dart to Steve, and it's really weird to be the one who actually _knows_ him. Sort of. He can feel all those eyes burning into the back of his neck, can already feel himself bracing for the mocking that waits for him back in the group.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry," Nancy goes on. "We're sorry," she adds, indicating Steve, who nods and tries a supportive little smile. "Everyone's thinking about you."

"It sucks, man," Steve adds.

Jonathan's little smile at that is more like a grimace.

"So," Steve bulls on ahead, because if he doesn't say it he'll lose his nerve completely, "we're having a -- thing, at my house tonight, a party, you know, 'cause my parents are out of town. You wanna come?"

Nancy looks up at him quickly, a startled expression on her face.

Shock passes over Jonathan's face too, unseating, for a moment, that wounded, guarded expression he wears every minute of every day at Hawkins High. "I'm not a party kind of guy," he says, more to the wall than to them. "And I'm really not in a party mood anyway."

"Hey, I feel that. It's not going to be much of a party, you know? Real laid back. Just like, a few people hanging out."

"Them?" Jonathan asks, looking up for a minute and indicating the watching group with a flick of his eyes.

"Well, they're my friends, so, yeah." Steve doesn't look around, doesn't want to know what they're doing. He can hear Carol's laughter from here. Inviting Jonathan tonight is going to make everything hellishly awkward, but he can't ... he just can't _not._

Jonathan just nods, his lips pressed together, and Steve can feel the moment slipping away. He can feel the distance between them like a physical force. If they were in the library, he'd do something now -- reach out, maybe, clap Jonathan on the arm or, God, _something._ He really wants to.

"Nancy's gonna be there too," he says instead, a little desperately. "She needs somebody to talk to who's, you know, like a fellow nerd."

"Hey!" Nancy says, smacking him in the arm with the back of her hand.

Jonathan gives his head a sharp shake, hair swishing around. "I can't just run off to a _party_ with my brother missing, I mean, what's even wrong with you?" His voice rises a little from its normal cracked half-whisper, and Steve realizes with a renewed twist of guilt that Jonathan's actually angry. At him.

"No, no -- it's not that -- Nance, help me out here."

Nancy gives him one of her face-screwed-up, "Steve you idiot" looks, and puts out her hand to touch Jonathan's arm -- the way Steve can't. It makes Jonathan jump a little, like a skittish horse. "Jonathan, don't listen to Steve, he's an idiot. But he means well. It's not that we think looking for your brother isn't important. It's just that Steve thinks, maybe a couple of hours taking your mind off it would be a good thing. You know? If there's no news. It'll stop you from sitting at home and worrying about it."

"Yeah," Steve says quickly. He knew Nancy would know the right things to say. She's good at that. "That. What she said. Just ... get outta the house for an hour or two, have a cold one, live a little? You know?"

"Steve," Nancy says, "stop talking now."

Steve claps his mouth shut. But somehow, there's a little glimmer of ... not quite humor, but something lighter on Jonathan's wounded face. There's a hint of one of those little smiles around the corners of his mouth, just for an instant.

"Maybe," Jonathan says.

"Yeah?" Steve breaks out in a grin. He really does _want_ Jonathan there -- as much as he wants Nancy there, even. He didn't realize it until getting that little peek of sunshine through the clouds, that hint that Jonathan might actually come. "Yeah, that'd be great. Just like a couple hours, okay? It'll be super laid back. We've got a heated pool. You can bring a bathing suit if you want?"

"Steve," Nancy sighs. To Jonathan she says, "Your brother's going to be okay, I bet. He's a smart kid. You'll find him."

Jonathan nods, and then the bell rings and they're all taking off for class, Nancy half-running to catch up with her redheaded friend. Steve hesitates, looking back, to see Jonathan watching them leave, and meets his eyes for a second, offers him a smile that Jonathan hesitantly returns.

And then they're all going their separate ways and Steve falls back into step with Tommy and Carol, who are making no particular rush toward World Lit. They'll all come in five minutes late like usual. Show up to class on time every day and you get a reputation as a grind.

"What was that all about?" Carol wants to know.

"Can't have a party without entertainment, right?" Steve says lightly.

"You _invited_ the _freak?"_

"Who'd he invite to what?" Nicole asks, falling into step with the rest of them.

"Steve invited Byers to the party tonight," Tommy says, throwing an arm over Steve's shoulders. "Because nothing livens up a party like worrying you're gonna be stabbed in your sleep."

"Knock it off, man," Steve says, shrugging off Tommy's arm. "He'll be cool."

"He's in my photography class," Nicole says. "He's actually kinda sweet." At Carol's scathing look, Nicole rearranges her face -- Steve can actually watch her doing it -- into the accepted expression of mild disgust. "I mean, for a loser."

 _We're all such a bunch of total dicks,_ Steve thinks in amazement.

That thought haunts him through every class that day, even dogs him through team practice afterwards. 

 

*

 

Steve doesn't want to admit it, but it's a relief when the doorbell rings. Hanging out with Tommy and Carol and Nicole at school is all well and good, but they're actually pretty tiring. They just want to talk about _nothing._ He'd rather be listening to Jonathan rattle on about world politics or punk rock, punctuating the words with that lazy dance of his expressive hands.

He hopes Jonathan's okay.

Hopes Jonathan shows up.

It's Nancy and Barb at the door, so at least there's something to distract from Carol's endless anecdotes about how much the other cheerleaders suck. He's just taking everybody out back to the pool when he catches a glimpse of another car pulling into the drive. His first thought is _Oh shit, my parents came back early_ but then he makes out the shape of that piece of shit Jonathan drives, and damn, the loner actually came. Would miracles never cease.

"Back in a minute," he tells the others, and he's opening the door just as Jonathan raises a hand to knock.

"You came!" Steve says, which, damn, is not suave _at all._ It's like he's gotten so used to not playing King Steve around Jonathan that he just blurts out whatever's on his mind, which is going to be really awkward around the whole group, come to think of it.

This gets a kind of a lopsided smile from Jonathan, and if Steve were a more introspective kind of person (which he is _not,_ dammit) he might have noticed that his stomach does a little swoopy thing exactly the way it does when Nancy smiles at him, which he is _not_ noticing because that'd be ridiculous and it's probably because Nancy just smiled at him by the pool, or else he's had too many beers on an empty stomach.

"You still sure you want me here?" Jonathan asks, as he steps into the foyer of Steve's house, looking around. "I'm not gonna ruin your reputation as King Cool or anything?"

"Dude. It's just friends, chilling around a pool. You could, uh ... leave your jacket. In the closet. If you want."

"I'll keep it on," Jonathan says, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

Yeah, Barb kept her coat on, too. It's probably a bad sign when half the guests at your party look like they're poised for a quick getaway.

"Is there any news?" Steve asks. "About Will."

Jonathan gives his head a hard shake, the hesitant friendliness fading out of his face. "I can't stay long. Gotta get back to Mom."

"Yeah. Right." Steve actually forgot that Jonathan's mom is divorced. Without her kids, she's probably all alone at home, worrying. He thinks for an instant about his own mom, if _he_ disappeared, crying beside the phone ... and feels a brief, tense wave of guilt for his Crazy Mrs. Byers thoughts yesterday. "Is she, uh ... okay with this? You. Here."

"She's a little distracted right now," Jonathan says. "I don't know if she knows I'm gone."

Okay, _that's_ so depressing that Steve's glad they come out at the poolside right then so he doesn't have to respond to it.

There's a brief, tense moment when Steve seriously hopes he hasn't made a mistake that'll make his remaining year and a half of high school a social nightmare, but then a series of waves and a careless "Hi" or two goes around the group flopped in lawn chairs by the pool. Everybody's got a beer, Tommy and Nicole are smoking, and a lazy atmosphere's already set in, the kind of social climate where people wander in and out and it's not a big deal.

Nancy smiles and says hi to Jonathan, in a genuinely friendly way, not a social-obligation kind of way. Steve cracks open a beer and then Tommy shotguns one so the challenge is _on._ Steve actually gets straight-laced Nancy to do one (score!), all teasing about being a jock cliché aside (she's probably not wrong). Barb passes, and so does Jonathan, and the next thing Steve notices, they're sitting crosslegged beside the pool chatting with each other, and Barb is actually smiling for the first time since she showed up, and she's taken off her coat.

This party might not be a total disaster after all.

Of course Tommy has to ruin it.

Steve's not really paying much attention to what else is going on around the pool at this point. Nancy's sitting next to him, and she's flushed and beautiful, with her hair straggling damply around her face in the steam off the pool. They're sharing a cigarette, making Nancy cough because she's never smoked before ("You didn't ever steal one out of your mom's purse? Not even just 'cause you were curious? Really?" "Mom doesn't smoke. She thinks it's a nasty habit." "Well, that just figures.") when the yelling starts up from the other side of the pool.

Steve scrambles to his feet. It's Tommy squaring off against Jonathan, Barb and Carol hovering like they're not sure what to do, and Steve's heart sinks when he sees the way Tommy is wobbling a little. Tommy was shotgunning those awfully fast, and he's always had a fighting streak when he gets drunk.

Jonathan's head is down, feet planted firmly on the ground, and he just says in a voice so low Steve can barely hear it, "Take that back!"

"I'm not taking anything back," Tommy snaps, brandishing an empty beer can like he's making a point with it. "I'm just saying what we're all thinking. Psycho Byers finally snapped --"

"Jesus Christ," Steve mutters, scrambling to his feet, and runs around the pool. Nancy is yelling, "Stop it, shut up!" and Carol's yelling something too, and this is going to go bad, the kind of bad that gets the police involved.

Or the kind of bad that makes Jonathan never talk to him again, and he'd totally deserve it.

"What, you're just gonna stand there?" Tommy demanded, giving Jonathan a little shove. "I don't hear you denying it --"

"Tommy, shut up, for God's sake!" Steve says, finally managing to get between them. Jonathan is very still and very white. "Tommy, you're drunk, you've had enough. Go sit down."

"Oh no, I don't think me and Nightmare on Maple Street here are through having our little chat!" Tommy tries to push past Steve, but now Carol is dragging on one of his arms, and Nancy is trying to steer Jonathan away, and Steve's not sure what happens but the cut-up beer can slips in Tommy's hand and suddenly there's blood everywhere.

"Jesus!" Tommy yells, doubling over, gripping his hand.

"What the fuck did you do that for!" Carol yells at Steve.

"It wasn't me! He cut himself because he's a drunk fucking idiot!" Steve yells back at both of them, because the sight of blood all over Tommy's hand and sleeve is really freaking him out. It was just supposed to be a laid-back pool party. Nobody was supposed to get hurt.

"Jonathan!" Nancy says, and Steve turns to see Jonathan stalking away toward the house, head down, taking long strides while Nancy and Barb both chase after him.

"Get away from me," Tommy tells Steve between his teeth.

"Gladly," Steve shoots back. His hands are shaking. He's not sure if he's ever actually been in a physical fight before, not like this, not up in someone's face; it's the sort of thing he's always tried to avoid. He has to force himself to take charge because someone's got to, and it's _his_ house. Tommy's bleeding and Steve doesn't even know how bad his hand's cut up; Jonathan's leaving, the girls might be too --

Way to throw a party, Harrington.

Carol's got her arms around Tommy, giving Steve a dirty look past his shoulder. Nicole just looks distraught. 

"There's first-aid stuff," Steve begins, "in the, uh, in the downstairs bathroom --"

"I'll get it," Nicole says.

Steve turns and goes after Jonathan.

He finds Nancy and Barb arguing with him in the entryway. "Jonathan, he's just drunk," Nancy is saying. "People say stupid things when they're drunk, things they don't mean -- Jonathan --"

"He meant it," Jonathan says through his teeth, his voice shaking. His face is the color of chalk, and his expression is awful. "I've heard the rumors. I know what people say about me, about my family --"

"They're dicks," Steve protests, shouldering into the little group, because damn it, _he_ caused this, _he_ invited all of them, and nobody should have a look on his face like Jonathan has right now. Steve just wants to fix it. Somehow. "They're dicks and nobody cares what they say, I don't care what they say. Right?"

 _"All_ you care about is what people say!" Jonathan fires back. "You won't even talk to me in public, because of what people might say!"

"What the hell, man?" Steve protests, guilt slamming into him like a freight train, because it's kind of, sort of, horribly kind of true.

And Jonathan's just looking at him now with an expression that isn't that awful, devastated look from earlier, it's just ... sad -- and there must be words to make it better, there _must_ be, and all Steve wants to do is find them, but he's completely out of his depth, he's pretty sure he's been out of his depth ever since Jonathan sat down across from him in the library and laid ground rules and Steve just might have lost a little piece of his heart right there --

"Jonathan," he begins.

They're interrupted by Carol screaming by the pool.

 

*

 

Fifteen minutes later, the poolside is a shambles of destroyed lawn chairs, there's blood everywhere, Carol is in complete hysterics ("Its face opened up and it just ate him! While he was still alive!") and is being calmed down by Nicole, who has wrapped her in Barb's discarded coat.

The rest of them are arguing in the living room about calling the police.

"We have to!" Jonathan half-yells, clutching the unlit tiki torch he'd been brandishing as a weapon. Steve has an old baseball bat from the garage and he is never letting go of this damn thing, _never_. He can't stop thinking of the solid, meaty thud as it made contact with whatever the everloving hell that thing was. 

"We can't call them, man, they'll think we're fuckin' nuts! Oh God, oh God, my parents are going to kill me."

 _"That's_ what you're worried about right now?"

"Jonathan." Nancy lays aside the leg of a lawn chair she was using as an impromptu spear (there's unnervingly dark blood on the end of it), to take his arm and then actually puts an arm around him, guiding him to the couch. "Jonathan, they won't believe us."

"But what if that thing took Will?" He's almost crying now.

If it took Will, then Will is dead, considering what it did to Tommy, who's like three times Will's size. Steve exchanges a helpless look with Barb, whose glasses somehow got cracked in the fight; she keeps trying uselessly to push them straight on her nose.

"I agree with Jonathan," she says, her voice cracking. "We should call the police."

Steve shakes his head and sits down on Jonathan's other side, the bat hanging loosely over his knees from a one-handed grip. He hesitates only for a minute before putting his arm around Jonathan from the other side like Nancy is doing. Everything that mattered so much a few hours ago hardly seems to matter at all now, not after they faced down a ... a ... whatever that thing was.

Jonathan is trembling violently, and Steve thinks that if the rest of them are thinking it, about Will getting taken by that monstrosity and what probably happened to him afterwards, then Jonathan must be getting the Technicolor version on constant replay in his head. Steve can't think of anything useful to say, and for once he manages to keep his mouth shut, lips sealed by the memory of the meaty thunk under his bat, and the noises Tommy was making, those noises, _God._ Tommy was a dick, but he didn't deserve that. Nobody deserves that. 

So Steve just holds on, and Nancy holds on, and after a little while Jonathan's shivering starts to ease and he relaxes a little, leaning into them.

"What do we do?" Jonathan asks, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

Nancy looks up at Barb, and then looks at the boys, and her voice is steady when she says, "We're going to get your brother back. Let's go monster hunting."

**Author's Note:**

> So this was the prompt: _AU, pre-canon: Steve is failing a class, Jonathan is assigned to tutor him/is the only one who can tutor him, and they sort-of turn into friends. Then the canon events unfold: how does Steve deal with helping his new awkward sort-of-friend find his brother without attracting Tommy H and Carol's ridicule, especially when they already give him grief over Nancy? Well, to start, a pool party will surely help Jonathan take his mind off his missing brother for one night. What's the worst that can happen, after all? (A Demogorgon, that's what)._
> 
> And a brilliant prompt it was, too!
> 
> (Sorry, Tommy H. Oh wait, no I'm not.)


End file.
